Jenny
by Sparkling Slayer
Summary: Set somewhere round s2 or s3 (brain's addled, can't remember, sorry!). What if Angelus didn't kill Jenny Callender....Read on! Please?? And review, thanks!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: All characters herein are owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and/or UPN, except any I invent. I use them with grateful thanks and hope I do a good job!

Author: Jacqueline Burns – jay.b@slayme.com

Use: Please ask first but as long as you credit it to me and don't steal it, then I can't see a problem!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

1.

Giles smiled in anticipation as he opened the door to his apartment, the sweet strains of music spilling out, along with dim lamplight. He hadn't realised she meant so soon. He entered and quietly, absently pushed the door closed. His eyes turned to a nearby table where a bottle of wine, sides frosted and beaded with moisture, stood with two shimmering crystal glasses and a rose on a silver tray, all glowing in the soft candlelight. He smiled delightedly and shrugged off his jacket, hurrying to loosen his tie, not seeing the folded piece of parchment slip onto the floor as he grasped the bottle tightly in one hand and the glasses in the other, and turned towards the stairs, excitement making his face boyish.

"Jenny?" he called softly as he moved forwards. There was no reply, the only sound the soft lilt of the music she'd put on. He reached the top and turned into the bedroom, eyes moving to the figure curled on it, facing away from him, head resting on one outflung arm, dark hair fanning out onto the white linen. "Jenny?" he said again, more uncertainly this time. "Are you alright? Jenny……?" He set the bottle and the glasses down on the bedside table and moved forwards, reaching out to grasp her shoulder……

* * *

Giles searched feverishly through the books, heedless of the damage he was doing to the fragile, yellowing pages, throwing them aside when they failed to yield what he was looking for. It was past midnight and shock and fatigue were clearly etched on his face, the shadows under his eyes becoming more pronounced as he fretted and frowned. He peered even more closely at the current book, flipping swiftly through pages, running a finger down the paper, searching for a clue, for anything that would help him. 

Jenny lay in the Sunnydale Hospital morgue, where she'd been taken earlier in the evening. It had taken some time, but the police had finally relented and let him go, seeing his obvious distress, even though he'd tried to hide it. She lay in the fridges now, waiting for the ultimate indignity of a postmortem to be carried out. The coroner had been called, her body bagged and removed, carried away in the sombre, black car. Giles had come almost straight to the library at the school and now searched for a particular ritual, a forbidden magic that would allow him to raise Jenny Callender from the dead, restore her to flesh and blood once more, rather than the lifeless shell that lay in the morgue.

He was so busy in his search that he failed to hear the door to the library open, failed to hear the footsteps click softly across the tiled floor, till her hand was on his shoulder and her soft voice said, "Rupert?" 

He yelped and jumped, turning, the book somersaulting into the air, a few pages falling out to drift to the floor, landing long after the volume had thumped down. He stared at her stupidly, seeing the warm dark eyes, the smiling rosy mouth, the dark bobbed hair swinging round her face, shining in the light, her creamy skin. She smiled at him, and stroked his cheek with a cold, cold hand. "J – Jenny?" he stammered, mesmerised by her touch, unable to move as she came closer, dropping her hand to slide her arms around his waist, underneath his jacket, tucking her head under his chin. "Oh, Rupert," she sighed. "I've come back for you."

"I – I – I thought you were dead!" he said, voice breaking. 

She raised her face and smiled up at him, shaking her head; disbelieving, he closed his arms round her and hugged her tightly, noticing without really doing so that she was cold, her skin whiter than ever, and so cold, so cold. She rubbed her cheek along his throat, allowing her hands to creep up to his shoulders. He closed his eyes, feeling nothing but the pliant softness of her skin as she rubbed against him like a cat. He didn't see it when her face changed, teeth suddenly sharp, eyes green, brows ridged. "Oh Rupert," she said again, voice breathless and soft, "I have something for you. You know I love you, don't you? Don't you want to be with me?"

Without opening his eyes, he nodded, ecstatic, not thinking about anything, only the wonder of her in his arms. She smiled then, features demonic, and opened her mouth, fangs catching the light. His body jerked against her when she bit down, stiffening with the sudden abrupt pain, but she held him tightly, hands clamped onto his shoulders, moaning with pleasure as she fed, feeling and tasting nothing but the thick, rich red blood, feeling his heart pound as it flowed. They sank onto the floor together.

At last she drew back, when he was near the brink, when she'd drunk as much as she could without killing him. His skin was white, lips and nails blue tinted, glasses askew, breath shallow. She lifted him from the floor, cradling his head in her lap, tracing his features with a gentle finger. She held her wrist up to her mouth and bit deeply, dispassionately watching her own blood flow, before lowering it to his mouth. "Drink of me, Rupert," she whispered, watching him swallow convulsively. His eyes snapped open and he grasped her arm, pulling her wrist tight against his mouth. Her eyes closed in almost sexual pleasure as she felt his lips move against her, felt her blood flow into him as he sucked greedily and thought of the life she was changing. 

"What a gift Angelus has given me," she murmured, watching his face. "And now I give it to you." She smiled, thinking of the Slayer, of her gypsy family. The smile sharpened wickedly. "And when you are strong and rise again, we'll leave this place. Oh yes. There are some people I'd like to visit." She pulled her arm away from him then, pushing him back when he would have clung to her. 

His eyes opened slowly and he stared up at her, eyes wide.

"Rest now," she crooned, stroking his face again. "And when you wake, we'll hunt and feed. And even the Slayer shall not stop us."


	2. 

2.

Buffy shoved at the library doors, almost running as she left, and nearly knocked Xander and Willow flat. Xander automatically reached out to steady himself, grabbing at her shoulders. 

"Whoa there, Buff, what's the deal?" he said jokingly before he looked at her pale, set face.

"Have either of you seen Giles?" she asked, looking quickly from one to the other. "I can't find him, and, and, well. You know he called me about Jenny last night, he told me not to go over, that he'd be OK, but he hasn't shown up here. He's not answering his phone……I'm worried, guys, you know Giles, this just – isn't him," she finished, the words almost falling over one another in her haste. 

Xander gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before slowly releasing her. "I'm sure he's fine, Buffy," he said firmly, looking at Willow before looking back at the tense face of the slayer. "He probably – he probably needs to be alone right now. Time to deal, you know?" He shook his head slowly. "Poor Miss Callender." 

Buffy frowned, stared at them both for a moment then grabbed their hands and pulled them quickly back into the library she'd so recently left, backing through the doors in front of them. "Maybe you're right. But I have a feeling." She gestured behind her, and Willow gasped as she saw the ruined piles of ancient books, shredded pages littering the floor like leaves. "And this isn't like him either," Buffy added grimly. "You know how much he loves those books of his."

Willow wandered past Buffy, walking over to pick up a discarded book, flipping quietly through its ruined pages. She paused, looking over the top of the heap onto the floor behind the piled volumes. She hesitated. "Buffy? Did he – uh, did he tell you what happened? You never said when you called us last night."

"Just that, he found her. My God, I can't – can't even imagine it." Her expression changed and her eyes dropped to the floor, darkened with suppressed emotion. "He said he'd found a drawing. Of Jenny." Her voice cracked and she shrugged slightly. "That means it had to be Angel. Angelus who did it – who killed her."

"Oh." Willow said softly. "I'm sorry. I – we," she shot a glance a Xander, "know what this is like for you. But, uh, Buff? Think you need to come and see this. There's uh, blood over here. And, and. I think – one of Giles' ties."

Buffy hurried over to her, round the side of the books, dropping to kneel by the scattering of dark red-black drops. She reached out a tentative finger; the drops were tacky, almost dry now. And half in the shadows under the table lay a dimly patterned tie, coiled loosely, discarded.

* * * *

The three of the sat now, silent at the table in the library. The only sound was Xander's chair as he rocked backwards and forwards, the legs creaking slowly with each movement, and the sound as Willow nervously tapped a pencil on the polished wooden surface. The tie lay in front of them, accusing, coiled like a snake. Buffy took a deep breath and placed her hands flat on the table, looking at the other two. 

"OK," she said. "What do we know? We know that Giles found Miss – uh, Jenny in his apartment last night. We know that it had to be something to do with Angel. But why her?" she mused. "Maybe she – found something. Her computer was wrecked, right?" Willow nodded. "So maybe it was something she was, uh, working on. So he, well, he took her to Giles, and, and left her." She laughed bitterly. "Left her for Giles to find. He called me, told me what had happened, but – well, he must have come here afterwards. But why?" 

Willow looked up. They'd rummaged quickly through the discarded books earlier. "Well, the books in the pile – they're all Rituals of Summoning, Magicks." Buffy looked blank. "They're spells that can be used to summon things. I think he was trying to bring her back." Willow explained.

"Bring her – bring Jenny back – from the dead?" Buffy said, face disbelieving. 

"Yeah, it would fit, wouldn't it?" Willow questioned. "You know, great love of his life, blah blah, cruelly killed by, er, cruelly killed. He'd want to reverse it, I'm sure." She smiled dreamily, sidetracked. "It's romantic, really."

"Will! And you think he found a way to do it?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head firmly, snapping back into reality, hair swinging round her face. "No way. There's no sign of magic, I can't feel anything, and there'd be some sign. There was no spelling or magic done here last night. But something sure happened."

Xander thumped his chair back onto all four legs. "So lets check out his apartment, see if we can find anything there." He shrugged as they looked at him. "What? I can't have an idea?"

"It's a crime scene, Xander." Buffy said. "I don't think they'd let us in to snoop round." 

Xander looked hurt for a moment, then his face brightened. "Then-"

His words were cut short as the door opened and Principle Snyder strode in, looking round. He spotted them at the table and headed over to them, eyeing the piles of books and paper on the floor. Hastily the three rose to their feet as he stopped in front of them, hands folded across his chest. "So. You three again." He jerked his head at the chaos on the floor. "Anything to do with you?" 

Buffy swallowed and looked at Xander and Willow who'd decided to study the table top intently. "Uh, no. We just came in here for, for books, because, we need, uh, books, and found them. Like that. Already."

"Hmph." He glanced round the room again, leaning forward slightly so he could see into the office. "Where's Mr Giles? I have some news for him."

Buffy shook her head. "We don't know, Principle Snyder. He's not here, he hasn't been in." 

The Principle stared at her for a moment. "Well, he'll find out sooner or later. There are some sick people in this town, Miss Summers. Miss Callender's body is missing. From the morgue. If you see him first, tell him I want to see him. In my office." He paused for a second and then showed a side that seemed almost – human. "I know they – were close." He swung on his heel and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Shocked, disbelieving, the three sat down at the table, sharing horrified glances. Xander stared back down at the table top. Willow was the first to voice their thoughts. "He – he wouldn't. Would he?" she said faintly. "He wouldn't have – taken her."

Buffy looked grim, face white. "This is Sunnydale, Will. Maybe she walked of her own accord."


	3. 

3.

Giles woke, disoriented. His eyes were open but the darkness was complete, he couldn't see, he'd gone blind…… He jerked reflexively as the memories poured into his mind. Jenny, coming back, Changing, the warm, coppery taste of blood in his mouth. A single explosive sound escaped him. "Ah!"

Her voice was like oiled silk, hiding secret amusement, low and husky. "You're finally awake, Rupert. I thought you'd never rise…… You must be hungry."

He sat up slowly, pulling the thick, dark cloth from his eyes, looking round. Pipes ran in a thick bundle along the wall, disappearing through holes, or branching up through the ceiling. It was dim and dark, the only light provided by a hurricane lamp filled with golden liquid, the flame burning steadily on top. A few abandoned desks and chairs littered the room, and a crude flight of stairs led to a single door which was wedged shut, a chair holding the handle firmly in place. And in the corner, a teenaged girl struggled, chained to the convenient pipes, gagged, legs bound at the ankles, eyes wide with fear. Jenny sat on the edge of a desk a few feet away from him, smiling lazily, eyes shining with the reflected lamplight. She rose to her feet and walked over to him, reaching a hand down to pull him easily to his feet. 

They stood close together, almost touching. "I thought you'd be hungry," she said softly. "So I brought you a – snack." She looked at his face for a moment, then reached up and removed the glasses he still wore, dropping them to the floor, grinding them beneath her bootheel. "You won't need those anymore."

"Jenny," he murmured. He caught her hair and pulled her head back so her pale throat was arched towards him, lips parted as she gazed up, no fear in her expression. He kissed her hard, lips melding for a few moments, then suddenly let her go. She fell back a step and watched him stalk towards the chained girl. 

He could smell the warm blood, could hear the girl's pulse beating in his head. Jenny smiled in delight as his features Changed, no humanity in the cold green eyes, no soul, no mercy. He caught roughly at the young woman's frantically twisting body and looked into her eyes for a moment, then smiled, listening as she tried to scream through the thick gag, revelling in the muffled, urgent sounds. The sharp fangs caught what little light there was and shone wickedly, sharp and curved. With an abrupt snarl he lunged forward and pressed his mouth to her throat, to the warm blood pulsing through her veins, feeding, trying to satiate the hunger that gnawed deep inside. 

He finished feeding and gave the girl's lifeless body a contemptuous look, turning to Jenny, lips stained red with blood. He eyed Jenny for a moment before moving over to her, cupping her chin roughly in his hand, tipping her head up. "Rupert. That was before." He paused for a second. "Don't ever call me that again. That belongs to the poxy Watcher, not me. I'm Ripper. Got it?" He looked round the room again. "Where the bloody hell are we anyway?" He frowned up at the door. "That looks familiar, but where?"

"Yes…Ripper. We're in the storage basement underneath the library," she said, pleased with her quick thinking. It hadn't taken much to drag his lifeless body here afterwards, either, when he'd finally died. She stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his, licking the blood from his lips, sinking back down. "Now lets go play, huh?" 


	4. 

4.

Buffy picked at the food on her plate, simply rearranging it, pushing it round rather than eating it. Joyce watched her with concern for a few moments, looking at her daughter's frowning face, the blue eyes that stared at the plate but didn't see anything.

"Honey? Are you – are you alright?" she asked finally, carefully. Buffy looked up and gave her a bright, completely false smile. "Is everything OK?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied, voice brittle. "Why?" 

Joyce opened her mouth to answer, stopped short by a knock at their front door. It provided Buffy a quick and convenient escape from her mother's questions. After all, how could you tell her you were worried that your Watcher, the school librarian, had been snatched and maybe turned into a vampire by his probably Undead girlfriend? "I'll go!" Buffy exclaimed, scraping her chair back and leaping to her feet. Joyce watched her hurry from the room and shrugged She heard the flurry of voices from the hall and identified them as Xander and Willow and Cordelia. At least, she thought, Buffy had fallen in with a good crowd this time. They seemed nice, though Cordelia had more money than was good for her…… She shook her head reflectively and carried on with her meal. 

* * * *

Ripper and Jenny made their way out of the school into the swiftly growing darkness of early evening, pausing once to watch a janitor idly pushing a cleaning cart along the hallways. They slipped by him silently, easily, the janitor little knowing how close he had come to a sudden and swift death at their hands.

They wandered now through the centre of Sunnydale, hands clasped, watching people hurry passed them on their own business, late shoppers out and running errands. Ripper smiled suddenly, pulling Jenny round and over to a bench where they sat for a moment. He could smell the warmth of the blood pounding through the people near them, could hear their hearts beating. "How stupid they all are," he murmured softly. "Like cattle. Just there for us to feed on. How little they know." 

Jenny nodded agreement, then pointed at a figure some distance away from them, white blonde hair shining as he passed under a streetlight. "He's like us, though," she said quietly, glancing up at Ripper, the words soft and murmured, for him alone. "A hunter. A predator." Ripper silently watched as he approached, and was unsurprised when the vampire stopped in front of them, looking down. 

"Well, well," Spike said, smiling grimly. "And what do we have here?" Idly he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his long leather coat, and lit one, insolently blowing the smoke towards them. "A couple of newborns," he scoffed. "I suppose you did this? He directed the comment to Jenny who gazed up at him defiantly, dark hair swinging behind her. He nodded abruptly. "Bloody Angelus. Always got to bugger about and play with people he wants to kill. You know, kill their friends, drive them mad. Surprised he didn't Change her bloody mother." He gazed down at them, eyes travelling over the librarian's tweed suit and plain white shirt and snorted, amused, grinning, started to move away. And paused, as if struck by a thought, turning slightly back towards them. "Better watch out for the Slayer," he said softly. "Don't think she'll spare you because you were her Watcher. You know what she's capable of, more than anyone. She won't be happy……… Nice suit, by the way."

Ripper smiled wolfishly back, but the smile didn't reach the watchful, inhuman eyes as he stared back at Spike. "And it's because I know what she's capable of that I'll do what you've always failed at. I'll fight her – and I'll win."

Spike snorted contemptuously again and turned on his heel, the coat swinging behind him. "I wish you luck," he tossed back over his shoulder as he strode away. "You'll need it." The amusement in his voice was clear. "She'll wipe the bloody floor with you, librarian. You'll never be strong enough to take her." 

Ripper rose suddenly to his feet and plucked at the clothes he wore, face wrinkling in distaste at the feel of the tweed and the plain shirts that he worn when he was Giles. "Come on," he said, pulling Jenny to her feet and kissing her. "We've got some things to do. And I'm hungry again."

* * * * *

The young woman in the department store watched the couple approach, taking in the expensive suit and the woman's soft leather pants and beautifully cut dark hair. They had money, she decided, and a tip was always useful…… She pasted a smile on her face and moved forwards, ignoring her aching feet and legs. "Good evening," she said, the words bored and dull, words she could say in her sleep. Thank God her shift was nearly finished and they'd be closing soon. "May I help you with something?"

The man looked at her, his eyes moving over her from her feet to the top of her blonde, shining hair, smiling lazily. She felt herself redden under his thorough inspection. "Yes," he said eventually, with an odd smile. "I'm looking for – something a little different."

Ripper turned in front of Jenny. No use looking in the mirror, he thought sardonically, but he liked the feel of the loose black shirt and the soft, buttery feel of the leather trousers the assistant had brought them. Jenny had taken the stuff and passed it into him, the assistant calling out suggestions of things he might like to try, the greed in her voice clearly apparent. Jenny smiled and slid closer to him, raising her hands to his shoulders and running them over the silk, feeling his muscles tense and flex, moving smoothly beneath the soft black material. "You look evil!" she said in delight, even more when he Changed, the features even more pronounced under the bright light of the changing rooms. He smiled, fangs glinting in the light. He turned swiftly as the voice of the assistant came from outside, warning them that the store was about to shut and did they wish to pay by credit card or cash? He grinned wolfishly – who had any intention of paying?

"I'm hungry," he said softly. "I think the girl needs to come in and take some of this stuff away." He indicated the piles of garments that hadn't suited so well. Jenny smiled in response and opened the door to the changing cubicle; Ripper carefully turned away so that he wasn't in the line of the mirrors and also so that his face would be hidden when the girl entered. He listened as they approached, the girl prattling brainlessly, broken by Jenny's low growl. He busied himself examining a shirt as they came in – until the door was swiftly shut and blocked by Jenny's body. The sales girl didn't even have time to scream as he turned and was upon her, holding her immobile as he fastened onto her throat, feeling the roar and pound of her blood. Jenny followed and they fed together, the girls eyes slowly glazing and her body becoming limp, head falling back as they drained the lifeblood from her.

They left her body in the cubicle without a backwards glance, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling, sprawled amidst the piles of clothes she'd brought them, the garments all black – except for the tweed suit and the plain, white shirt that had belonged to the Watcher.


	5. 

5.

Willow leaned back from the laptop and stretched her arms above her head, looking in satisfaction at the screen in front of her. She'd hacked into the Sunnydale Clarion newspaper system and the following day's headline, the issue currently in print, was displayed on the screen.

"Teacher's Body Missing from Morgue" proclaimed the main headline; an brief account regarding the unexplained death and subsequent disappearance of Jenny Callender's body followed. The coroner expressed himself baffled at the sick inhabitants of the town who could commit such a crime, but refused to comment on how the teacher had died. When Buffy reached the part about there being no forced entry into the morgue, how the attendant was quoted as saying, "It's like the body got up and walked away," she pointed at the screen.

"Well, _that_ just says everything, doesn't it?" She got up from her perch on the edge of Willow's bed and began to pace round the room, absently looking at the empty fish tank as she passed it. Willow and Xander exchanged uneasy looks.

"But it doesn't mean that, that anything's happened to Giles," Willow ventured. "I mean, he's upset, who wouldn't be, he probably went off by himself someplace."

"Yeah, that'll be it, Buff," Xander joined in. "He just needs some time to deal. That's all. He'll turn up soon."

Buffy swung round to face them. "_Without telling anyone_? Without telling _me_?" The hurt betrayal in her voice was clear. "No. It's something else, Will, I just have – I have a feeling."

She picked up her coat from Willow's bed and shrugged into it. "I'd better go. Patrol and all that. Though doesn't seem like much point when my Watcher's gone missing on me."

"We'll come with you, we can help. You know. Like we always do." Willow said quickly, nudging Xander in the ribs. He gave her a hurt look and smiled at Buffy.

"Yeah, sure," he said, a little over enthusiastically. "It'll be fun. We might find Miss Callender."

* * * *

They trailed dispiritedly through the cemetery, Buffy turning a stake idly backwards and forwards in her hands. The patrol had been deathly quiet – literally. No demons, no werewolves, no vampires. No nothing. Willow fell behind, stopping to examine a headstone of someone who had recently been a classmate. When the blond vampire stepped out behind her and grabbed her arms, shoving his hand roughly over her mouth, all that escaped was a strangled squeak. However, even that small noise in the quiet was enough to bring Buffy whipping round, stake raised. Spike arched an eyebrow at her and grinned. 

"Careful with that," he cautioned her. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to_ this_ little morsel here, now would we?"

Buffy lowered the stake and glared at him. "What do you want, Spike?" she said between gritted teeth.

"Now that's better," he said approvingly, pulling a struggling Willow along and awkwardly moving to a tomb; he leant back against it, whilst keeping a firm hold on his wriggling captive. "I just want to talk. She's," he jerked his head at Willow, "insurance that we _do _talk, and not dust. Get my meaning?"

"OK. But this better be good," Buffy warned him. Spike grinned even more widely and nodded sagely, adjusting his grip on Willow to make it more comfortable. "And if you touch even one hair on her head," she added, "You'll be dust before you can blink. So speak. Quickly."

"We-ell, it's about your Watcher. Or rather, your not-Watcher-any-more," Spike said slowly, staring at her, face unreadable in the shadows. He sniffed. "Saw him with his lady love, just this evening. Sitting in the town, they were. They've already left four bodies behind them." He watched Buffy's eyes widen. "Ah. Didn't know that, then, did you?" He shook his head pityingly. "Thought you'd have guessed. A bright Slayer like you. It was Angelus, you know that, don't you? He took the teacher, she took the Watcher. And one of them will take you."

"I don't believe you." Buffy denied Spike's statement, even though she knew it was true. Had known from the moment that Giles called her to say the Jenny was dead. She'd known that the gypsy/teacher would come for him, as soon as he mentioned the drawing by Angelus. And she'd let it happen.

Spike sniffed again. "Don't really care whether you believe it, Slayer. It's true." Abruptly he released his hold on Willow and shoved her forwards, sending her stumbling into Xander's arms. "But I can help you."

"Why?" Buffy asked bluntly.

"Because Angelus plans to open the doors to Hell, and everything in this world will be gone. Finished. Done. And I don't want that any more than you do." Spike answered, watching her face. "We can help each other. I'll let you know when." He turned and without a backwards glance, strode off into the darkness of the graveyard, black coat quickly blending him in with the shadows.

* * * * *

They were almost back at Willow's house when it happened, when the tall figure stepped out in front of them from the shadows. 

"Buffy." His voice was unmistakable and Buffy watched, face empty, as he approached them. He nodded to them all in turn. "Xander. Willow." 

"Giles." She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice, though inside she felt numb and sick, shaking. She saw that he was shaking his head slightly.

"Giles is gone. Ripper's back. And he's here to stay," the vampire Watcher said, an evil grin spreading across his familiar features. He beckoned to her, starting to move forwards. "Come on then, my Slayer. Let's see what you're capable of now." 

Willow and Xander backed away, watching miserably as a stake appeared almost magically in Buffy's hand. Her face was set, stony as she circled towards the former Watcher, moving lightly on the balls of her feet. "It doesn't have to be like this, Giles," she said quietly, watching his face.

"Oh, _I think it does_," he replied, Changing. "It has to be_ just_ like this."

He rushed her and she twisted, kicking out, planting a booted foot into his midsection. He staggered backwards, but recovered quickly, dancing easily away as she followed, twisting to kick again. This time, he caught her foot, pushing upwards and flipping her over. She landed heavily, but rolled easily to her feet, flowing upright and punching. He misjudged it badly, not expecting her to rise so quickly, and took the full force of the punch, and the ones that followed it. Buffy twisted easily, kicking out again, hearing the crunch of bone underneath her boots as she hit ribs and his face. The only sound was the sound of Buffy breathing, of the grunts of effort in each punch and kick. He twisted and kicked back, winding her, following with a kick that spun her round, following, grabbing her and bodily throwing her to one side. She fell again, rolling upright, spinning into a crouch and kicking his feet away as he followed her; he fell heavily to the sidewalk but rolled up. He rushed her again; her final kick sent him sprawling into a low fence, so powerful that he crashed through it in a tangle of pickets and hedge. He scrambled to his feet and came forward again, catching Buffy by surprise, landing a solid kick into her ribs that left her doubled over and winded, on her knees, knocking the stake from her hand. "Just like Angel," he said contemptuously, sneering. "You can't do it. Can't kill me. We'll meet again. And soon."

With tears in her eyes, she watched the blurred figure of Giles stride away, gasping for breath as Willow and Xander hurried to help her to her feet and take her home.


	6. 

6.

Ripper chewed on his thumbnail, gazing into space with an odd look on his face. Jenny watched him for a moment, looking at the cut across his forehead, the black eye, then rose to her feet, crossing over to him and placing her hand on his shoulder. He shook her off with a snarl, twisting away from her touch. Her eyes narrowed and she backed away. 

" Not as easy as you thought, then? The Slayer?" she asked finally. "She won't let us go, you know. She's a Slayer; you're a vampire, now. You know what she is, what she'll do." Ripper glared at her. "She'll hunt you down and try her best to kill you. She won't just let us leave." Jenny went on, voice low and sensuous. "And I want to leave Sunnydale. Sunnyhell – definitely more like it. Get away from this hellhole. I have," she smiled sweetly, evilly, "people I want to see."

"I _know_ what she is." Ripper growled at her. "We need something to bargain with. Something she won't expect. Something she'll fight for. Or give in to." He hesitated and began to smile. "And I think I know what we can use……"

* * *

Buffy had hurriedly pulled on her coat and gone out with Willow and Xander. After a quick admonishment not to be too late, Joyce turned the lights down low and prepared to settle down for the evening. There was an old film on TV and she had a book she was looking forward to starting; she smiled to herself in anticipation as she pulled the curtains and changed into an old fleecy sweatsuit. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate, curled up in a corner of the sofa with her feet tucked underneath her and began to read. She was comfortable and well into the book when the knock at the door interrupted her enjoyment, cutting through the quiet burble of the TV. She sighed, rolled her eyes in mock irritation and put the book to one side, uncoiling herself and going to the door, checking the time as she went. 

"Did you forget your key again?" she said as she answered it, expecting to see Buffy when she pulled it open.

The man on the other side looked down at her, leaning on the door jamb, breathing hard, shrouded in shadows. "Hello, Joyce," he gasped, accent clipped and precise, voice low. "Is Buffy around? I need to speak to her, it's, it's quite urgent."

"_Oh_! Mr Giles!" Joyce started back in surprise, hand going to her throat; she hadn't expected to find the tall librarian on her doorstep at such a late hour. "Oh, ah, no, I'm sorry, she's not here. She's gone out somewhere with, uh, Xander and Willow." She paused, and glanced at her watch again, squinting at it. She reached up to click the porch light on. "But she should be back soon……would you like to wait?" She frowned as a thought occurred to her, then looked back up at Giles as she spoke. "She's not in some kind of trouble, is she? At school?" She gasped in horror at his battered face. "What happened to you?"

Giles uncoiled himself from the door jamb and laughed. "No, nothing like that. And as for me – well, a foolish accident, that's all. I just need – a quick talk. If you're sure it's no trouble, I'd like to wait." He hesitated, hovering on the threshold. "I'm not interrupting you or anything?" he asked.

Joyce shook her head firmly. "No, not at all. I was just enjoying the peace to read a little." she said, smiling wryly. "Please, come on in and make yourself at home. I have some antiseptic somewhere in here…… I'll make us a drink and then I'll find it."

The tall Englishman stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him with a solid thunk and following Joyce as she turned and made her way towards the kitchen. "What would you like?" she said over her shoulder. "Coffee, or, or chocolate, or something?" 

"Anything would be fine," he replied as they entered the kitchen. Joyce frowned slightly, surely he hadn't sounded like that a moment ago – the refined accent had changed, slipped, become something else. His features Changed. "But I was thinking of something – a bit different."

"Oh?" she said, reaching up into a cupboard, taking down a tin of hot chocolate and frowning at the label. "I don't have any alcohol if that's what you're after." She sighed. "Too much of a temptation with Buffy in the house, not that I think she drinks. Too much temptation for me!"

"No. Not alcohol." The librarian said, a curiously insolent tone in his voice. She didn't hear him close in behind her, and when his hand dropped onto her shoulder and spun her round, the tin fell from her suddenly nerveless hand. It lost its lid as it hit the floor and bounced into a corner, spraying dark brown chocolate powder over the pristine tiles.

Her eyes opened wide in shock and fear as she looked at his face; he grinned, lips curling back over the sharp, pointed canines like a dogs. He spun her back round again, pulling her back against his body and locking an arm across her chest, effectively pinning her arms. He felt her hitch in a breath to scream; he clapped his free hand over her mouth, muffling the noises she made. She could hear the smile in his voice as he dropped his head and spoke softly next to her ear. "You're coming out to play, Joyce. Won't that be fun?" The arm across her body tightened with frightening speed, constricting her lungs, making it hard to breathe. "And don't call me Giles. It's Ripper, now."


	7. 

7.

Buffy stood still, doubled over, wheezing slightly while Xander and Willow supported her, glancing at each other worriedly. 

"I think……I think I'm gonna be sick," she said thickly and pushed away from them, stumbling into the bushes that lined someone's fence next to the sidewalk, falling to her knees. Willow and Xander stood, silent for a moment.

"What's the matter with her? I've never seen her this way before." Xander leaned forward and whispered to Willow. She shrugged, eyes wide. 

"Maybe shock," she suggested finally, quietly. "You know how she thinks of Giles, and now, and this……after Angel and all. I don't think she _really _believed it. Not even when Spike said he'd seen them, told us what – had happened. She'll be fine, we just – just have to get her home, that's all."

When she'd finished, Buffy struggled to her feet, roughly scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, brushing soil from her clothes. She stared into space for a moment before Willow's voice reached her. "Buffy? Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm – I'm fine." She emerged from the bushes and smiled wanly at them. "I guess – I didn't expect him to come to me. Not to have to fight him." Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "I guess I just – still think of him as Giles, you know?"

"We know," Xander answered softly. "Come on, Buff. Let's go home." They took her arms and they began to walk down the sidewalk. 

* * * *

"Mom?" Buffy stepped through the door and shrugged out of her jacket, turning to wave at Xander and Willow before she closed the door. "Mom?" 

She glanced into the lounge, where a book lay face down on the sofa and the TV burbled quietly to itself. The only light was from a single lamp behind the sofa, angled so that Joyce could read comfortably. The rest of the house remained silent apart from the muted sound of the TV. "Mom?" She called out again, padding through into the kitchen, frowning when she saw the chocolate powder coating the floor, the now empty tin resting at the foot of a unit. "Weird," she murmured, staring at it for a moment. She shrugged slightly and turned out of the kitchen, calling out to Joyce again, more urgency in her voice now. "Mom?!" She hurried upstairs, pushed open the door to her mother's room and stopped abruptly, rocking back on her heels in shock and fear.

Ripper stood by the window and in his arms hung the limp shape of Joyce. As she heard the door open, Joyce raised her head and Buffy could see the gag wound tightly across her mouth, her eyes wide with fear and pain. 

"Mmmph mmphhm mmphmmm!" She tried to struggle against the grip across her abdomen and chest and Buffy watched for a stunned moment as Ripper's grip tightened visibly. Joyce slumped again, eyes rolling back in her head, head falling forward. Buffy felt as though time had slowed down; Joyce's muffled shouts had taken mere seconds but each sound had lasted years. 

"Hello again, Buffy." The tall vampire's voice was almost amused. 

"Let – her – go!" Buffy hissed through clenched teeth and started forwards. "It's me you want, so why not leave her alone?" she said as she stepped slowly further into the room. Ripper shook his head and shook Joyce from side to side like a rag doll. 

"Do you really want to kill your own mother?" He sounded like he was smiling. "Because if you keep walking, I'll snap her like a twig." Buffy stopped, anguish on her face. He watched her carefully. "That's better. I have a – a proposition for you, if you will." 

Buffy glared at him. "I don't bargain with vampires." She laughed bitterly. "You should know that, Watcher."

"No, indeed you don't," he agreed, adding maliciously, "unless they happen to be your lover. But that's beside my point. Thing is, you're a Slayer. Jenny and I don't particularly want to end up as dust. We want to leave Sunnydale, and not on the breeze. So I have a bargain for you. We'll look after Joyce for a bit and you – you keep away from us and concentrate on Angelus – remember him? We intend to leave – soon – and when we do, you can have her back." He jiggled Joyce again. "We'll let you know where to find her."

Buffy gritted her teeth, staring at her mother's limp body. "And how do I know I can trust you?" she asked jerkily.

Ripper shrugged airily. "You don't. But then, do you have a choice?" 

He smiled and suddenly, before Buffy could move, lunged backwards, crashing through the window behind him with Joyce in his arms, gripped tightly in front of his body. Things went into slow motion again; Buffy could hear the crack of the wooden frame, the crunch as the glass cracked, the sound as it rained down. The night breeze caught at the thin curtains and snapped them into the room. She dived forwards, swimming through the air, got to the window in time to see Ripper rolling awkwardly to his feet, the fall causing him no problems, Joyce still clasped in his arms - he'd taken the impact, she saw, grateful for that one small thing. She saw the paleness of his face as he glanced up at the window, the unmistakable smile as he hoisted Joyce up over his shoulder and hurried away into the darkness.


	8. 

8.

Buffy moved downstairs, face blank, eyes dark and empty. She moved almost on automatic pilot towards the lounge, sitting on the edge of the sofa, picking up the book her mother had discarded, laying it gently down on her lap and staring blindly at the pages. She saw nothing, heard nothing; for a time, her world was darkness. 

When she roused, she had no idea how long she had been there. The lamp still burned behind her and the TV displayed yet another boring info-mercial as she finally saw it. 

"Mom." 

The word was a whisper of pain wrenched from her. Awkwardly she laid the book to one side and rose to her feet, checking for the time; she'd lost almost two hours in the shock of seeing Ripper - (she couldn't, now, think of him as Giles, not now she'd seen him – take her mother into the night. Face set, hard, ignoring the time, she picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Willow answered on the fifth ring, voice foggy with sleep. 

Buffy hesitated. "Willow? Did I, uh, wake you?"

"Buffy? Oh, hi, no, I was – uh, well, yeah." Willow answered. "Are you OK? I mean, it's ah, late. Did something happen?"

Buffy's voice was grim when she replied. "We have a situation, Will. I need you and Xander and I need you both here, now. He, he was here," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, struggling to find the words she needed, "was here. He, he, he's gone. He took her." Her voice was piteous.

"Angel was there? When? Took who?" Willow asked, baffled.

"No, Will! Not Angel – him. Giles. Ripper, now," Buffy snapped. "He's not Giles anymore. Giles is gone. We can't – can't think of him like that anymore. He's just another vamp, now. But – he took her. My Mom."

"God, no, Buffy. I'll be right there. Don't move!" Willow assured her. "I'm coming over right now!" She put down the phone and stood quietly in the middle of her room for a moment before moving.

She hurriedly threw on her coat, packed up her laptop – just in case – and as quietly as possible slid open her window, hesitating at the brink of climbing out, glancing fearfully at the door. Sneaking out of the house at night was not something that Willow did and even now, knowing that Joyce was at the mercy of two vampires, she paused, waiting for her mother to open the door and demand to know what she was doing. 

"_Buffy needs you. Now come on_!" she whispered to herself; and climbed out onto the ledge, the case containing her laptop gripped for dear life. Turning, she eased the window closed and jumped down carefully to the ground, hurrying away towards Buffy with one last glance at the house, slinging the case over her shoulder as she ran. 

* * *

When Spike stepped out in front of her, she screamed, hands flying to her chest. He threw up both hands, palms forwards, then saw a light flick on in a house to their left. He lunged forwards and grabbed her, lifting her easily off the ground as he hustled into the shadows and away from anyone who might come to see what was happening.

"Bloody shut up!" He hissed in her ear, exasperation clear in his tone as he gripped her arms and shook her slightly. "I'm not going to bloody hurt you, but I will if you don't stop that noise! I told the Slayer I'd help you so here I am. Well, it's actually more that she can help me. Now bloody well shut up!" He locked his hand firmly over her mouth to muffle the noise, waiting until she decided that she needed to breathe. "Are you going to be quiet now?" he said. When she nodded he grudgingly took his hand away and stepped back, eyeing her with interest. Willow blushed as she became aware that she was wearing fluffy bunny slippers and pyjamas with a sweatshirt and a coat thrown on over the top. Defiantly she tilted her chin up and stared at him.

"Where are you running off to then, Red? Bit late for you to be out alone, specially dressed like that. Toothsome little thing, you are. Might run into some – people - who are less friendly than me." He paused and grinned at her, idly taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting up. He blew a plume of blue smoke up into the air. "Wouldn't be to help the Slayer, would it?"

"What do you mean?" Willow said carefully, playing dumb.

"Well." He eyed her, squinting speculatively through the smoke at her. "I mean, are you rushing off to help her get her mother – Joyce, you know? – back? From the ex-Watcher. Sodding ponce."

"What do you know about that?" Willow demanded breathlessly.

He shrugged idly and took another drag on the cigarette. "Oh, you know. This and that. Happens I saw him, sort of thing. Being all evil and vampirey. All_ grrrrr_ and fang. Fireman's lift and all that."

Unthinking Willow stepped forwards and took hold of his arm, trying to pull him after her. "Well, come on! We have to help Buffy!"

The blond vampire didn't move, simply arching a brow and staring pointedly down at her hand on his black coat. Willow let her hand drop and stared at him defiantly. "And what makes you think that I want to help the Slayer just yet? There're more important things going on than that bloody ex-Watcher and his demon lover pinching her mother, you know," he said.

Willow shook her head and began to walk away, guessing that he would let her go – or follow her. "Not to Buffy," she spat over her shoulder. "If you're coming, fine. If not – well, I wouldn't want to be you when she finds out you could have helped – and didn't."

The blond vampire watched her move away for a moment, flicked his still lit cigarette into the shadows, then hastened after her. 

"Now, don't be hasty, Red!" he called. "Didn't say I _wouldn't_ help, did I? Just said there were – other things going on. Like Angelus wanting to kill the whole world and everything in it by making it a BIG hell on earth…. I don't like that idea and I want to stop him. And I can help the Slayer do it – but I need her help for something."

Willow stopped walking for a moment and swung round. "You – _YOU?_ – need Buffy's help? she said incredulously.

"Well, yeah," Spike said. He looked at her for a moment then dropped his gaze back to the floor. "I'll help her stop Angelus – if she lets us go. You know, no dusting or setting on fire. Or killing in any other inventive sodding way she might be able to think of." 

Willow looked at him blankly, face questioning. "Us?"

"Me and Dru, stupid!" he snapped. "I help her stop the end of the world, she lets us go. Know it's against the whole Slayer thing and all that, but – well. I'm sure she'll see my point of view." He smiled suddenly, revealing two sharp fangs that were far too pointed for Willow's comfort. "And now I have an extra bargaining chip. I know where the teacher and the Watcher are hiding – I know where they'll have Joyce. And I bet I know what they want in exchange for her life."

"What?" Willow asked, starting to walk away again.

"Same as what me and Dru want. You know - to leave Sunnydale – in one piece."


	9. 

9.

"Will, _what the hell_ is he doing here? Have you gone _mad_? He's a vampire!" Buffy hissed, pulling Willow into the house, glaring back over her shoulder at Spike. He hunched down into his leather coat and glared right back at her, standing outside on the porch, a cigarette dangling insolently from his lips.

"He says he can help," Willow hissed back. "He knows where Giles – I mean, uh, Ripper – took your Mom." She paused. "You have to let him in, Buffy. Who knows what might happen? And, and, I'm sure he means it. That he can help." She looked closely at her friend. "Are you alright?" she asked doubtfully. Buffy's face was white and drawn, dark circles pooling under her strained eyes. Buffy nodded sharply, opening her mouth to reply when a drawling voice interrupted her.

"Yeah, s'right, I can help. And I think you really need me." He smiled slowly, wondering why they bothered to whisper. "I can hear every word you're saying, Slayer, and Red's right – looking a bit rough there, you are." he added conversationally.

Buffy shoved Willow behind her and faced Spike, fists clenching at her sides and muscles taut. "I don't _like _you, Spike. I don't want your help."

He shrugged and turned slightly. "Doesn't much matter whether you want my help. You need it. Big difference, Slayer." He flicked the cigarette to the porch floor and stared down at it for a moment, before grinding it savagely under a boot heel. "You want Mummy dearest back in one piece, you invite me in. If not – well. I'll go, shall I? See if they've done anything to her. Not know for being nice to guests, vampires. And that teacher's shaping up to be a good 'un. I could come back and give you a progress report." He paused to think and added, "Oh yeah, and you need me to help with Angelus, as well. You know, with the whole killing the world thing. You can't do it alone."

Buffy stared at him for a few moments longer, almost grinding her teeth in frustration. Finally she spoke. "And what do you get out of all this, Spike? I know you're not offering because you're really a nice fluffy bunny in disguise. What's your price for my not staking you?"

His voice was steady as he stared into her eyes. "I'll help you stop Angelus and get your mother back from your Watcher. You let me – and Dru – go. Leave Sunnydale, together, in one piece. No killing or staking or death of any kind. Simple. Take the offer or leave it, Slayer. It's the only one you'll get. Do we have a deal?"

Reluctantly, Buffy nodded, then took a step forward till her nose was almost against his, speaking slowly, as if to a child. "If you betray us or double cross us in any way – you're dead, Spike. Get me? If you escape, I'll hunt you and I'll find you." She turned her back on him and moved towards Willow, still standing inside the doorway, watching them with wide eyes. When she stepped through the doorway, Willow took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Come in, Spike," Buffy said wearily. "And if you touch anything or do anything, then – well. Leaving Sunnydale will be the least of your worries."

Smiling slightly, the blond vampire entered the house, pushing the door closed behind him with a solid, final boom.

* * * *

Joyce struggled up through foggy darkness, slowly becoming aware of an ache in her head and an agonising pain in her shoulders. Her eyelids lifted, dropped, lifted and finally stayed open. Blearily she looked around, blinking furiously to try and focus. 

She was in much the same position as the teenaged girl had been only a couple of days before. Standing on tiptoe, arms above her head, bound to the pipes in the corner of the basement, legs lashed together, a gag wound tightly across her mouth. Her hands were numb and her head throbbed.

As her vision cleared, she became aware of a figure approaching from one side. Her eyes widened as she saw Jenny Callender for the first time. The honey-skinned teachers' face was Changed, ridged, eyes green. She smiled as she walked towards Joyce.

"Comfortable?" she inquired. Her voice was the same as always, low, sweet, slightly husky. She stood directly in front of Joyce now, and ran a hand down the older woman's arm in a gesture that was almost a caress. Turning her head, she spoke to someone out of Joyce's sight, though when he replied she knew who it was. The voice was behind her.

"Can I play? Just a little? Please?" Jenny's voice wheedled, oiled silk over hidden menace. "I won't hurt her. Much. Maybe." 

"Not yet. Be patient, Jenny – maybe soon," he answered. Jenny pouted and sighed, features abruptly shifting back to her human disguise. Her eyes were dark with disappointment.

"You never let me have any fun," she said petulantly. She pinched Joyce's arm, hard, before turning away. Joyce gave a muffled yelp of pain behind her gag, and twisted slightly, arms screaming in protest. 

Ripper casually walked in front of Joyce, and caught at Jenny, holding her by the upper arms, grasping her tightly enough to leave white indentations on her skin. She growled and smiled, Changing again. "You're hurting me," she murmured.

Rippers face, ridged and inhuman, was expressionless as he looked at her, staring into those green, soulless eyes. Suddenly he smiled, lips pulling back over sharp, wicked incisors. "Good." 

The two vampires stared at one another for a moment, then Ripper pulled her forwards into a kiss, arching her backwards. As the two demons sank onto the floor, tearing at each others' clothes, Joyce closed her eyes and tried to block out the sounds that flowed over her.


	10. 

10.

"Whoa!" Xander halted in surprise, rocking backwards on his heels, hands coming up, palms outwards. "What the – how - Buffy? Do you know there's a vampire in your house?" He ducked his head and stared at her in disbelief.

She'd started pacing again after she'd opened the door. Now, she stopped for a moment and glanced at him, mouth tight. Willow waved weakly, then dropped her hand down, turning to look at the laptop she'd set up. 

"Yes, Xander, I had noticed," Buffy answered tartly. "He's here to – to help us." The words caught in her throat for a moment before they made it out. Spike looked at Xander, grinning, and gave him a cheery wave from his comfortable perch in an armchair.

Xander looked from one to the other, with an expression on his face that said he couldn't decide whether he should run or humour them all. "Okaaay," he said finally, drawing the word out. "But I'm watching you, Spike. Don't forget it." He settled into a chair, glaring at the vampire.

Spike rolled his eyes and snorted. "Oh, _please_!" he drawled. He started to rise to his feet. "Bloody get over it, already. I've got a deal with the Slayer – didn't say nothing about her friends……" Xander also started to get to his feet, fists clenched, glaring at Spike.

"_Sit down_! Both of you!" Buffy snapped sharply, pointing at them. "We're not here for that. We're here to – to – to get my Mom back. And if you can't help, you can just – go." 

"OK, OK! Wasn't gonna do anything. Don't get your bloody knickers in a twist." Spike muttered, subsiding back into the chair, rolling his eyes again.

Willow frowned as she looked at Buffy. The Slayer's voice was strained and Willow thought it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge, for her temper to snap. She decided to herself that she didn't want to be around when it went.

"So, do we have a plan or what?" Xander looked round. 

Buffy nodded, swinging round to face the three of them, hands on her hips, face stony. "Yep. We go in, we get Mom. If they're there, I'll kill them. If they've hurt her, I'll kill them."

Xander rubbed his face. "OK, well, that seems simple enough…… direct and ah, to the point." He glanced at Willow, who shrugged. "How are we going to find them?"

"That's where Spike comes in," Willow piped up. "He saw them – he knows where they are."

The blond vampire nodded smugly. "We were just waiting for you to show up before we went," he said. "Come on, then, Slayer. Let's see what you've got. Show me everything – I wanna see it all!" He rubbed his hands together, smiling. "Weapons, I meant, weapons! God, you people!" the vampire added hurriedly, as Buffy glanced at him, taken aback, and Xander growled under his breath.

* * * *

"In there." Spike pointed towards the darkened building, glancing over at Buffy. "That's where they're lying up. Right under your noses, they were. Literally." 

They were huddled in a group, though Spike stood back slightly from them, absently bouncing the double bladed axe up and down on one palm, the other gripping the haft tightly. The nearest streetlight was a fair distance away, but even the dim light burnished his blond hair, shone from the wickedly honed edges of the weapon he carried.

"How do you know?" Buffy asked softly. 

"Ah. Well. I followed them for a bit and they came to the school – bit odd, I thought – so I stayed behind them. Didn't see me. Weren't expecting to be followed so they didn't look. And that's where they went. Into the library – and down." 

"Down?" Buffy questioned. 

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Yeah – you mean you didn't know about the basement under the library? And no, I don't mean the Hellmouth, I mean a normal, run of the mill basement. Storage space, I think it was. Didn't get close enough to go in with them, though, if you see what I mean."

Buffy nodded decisively. "Right. Xander, Willow, I want you to stay out of the way. If they're in there and we fight, I want you to get Mom out. OK? Don't put yourselves in danger. Stay back, let us go first. Spike, you're with me. If it comes to a fight, you're my backup. And if you don't help and I need you – you're dusted, deal or no deal. Got it?"

Willow and Xander nodded and Spike stared at her for a moment, eyes flat, before dipping his head also.

Buffy stood up. "Let's do it."


	11. 

11.

Buffy peered through the round glass panel in the middle of the library door, looking carefully into the chamber beyond. The others crowded behind her, all except Spike who stood again to one side, looking on. She was surprised to see that the library wasn't dark. Slowly, she began push the door open, trying to be silent; even though the room looked empty, anyone – or anything – could be hiding in the stacks. It squeaked slightly and she hissed between her teeth. A single light burned in what had been Giles' office, a small desk lamp. It provided enough illumination for her to see the library clearly; the table and chairs, the steps leading up into the stacks, and several piles of books stacked up in tilting columns on the floor. 

Before, the library had always seemed like a sanctuary – she'd always known that Giles would be there, poring through his books, generally willing to help, listen and provide endless cups of tea – but now, empty, it seemed like a tomb. As she padded slowly into the room, she glanced up at the circular skylight far above. Xander and Willow crowded in behind her, Spike following slowly, making no effort to be quiet. Buffy turned to him, glaring, hissing through her teeth in exasperation.

"Can you make a little _more_ noise?" she whispered sarcastically. He looked at her, face amused, then glanced round the library.

He led them up into the stacks, passing quickly beneath high shelves packed with arcane books, most of them from Giles' own collection. Few of the schools' own books were actually to be found in this place. He stopped in front of a door that none of them, not even Willow, had ever noticed. "The library doesn't extend all the way to the back of the building," he said quietly. "This door goes down into the storage space. Where they are." He glanced over his shoulder at Buffy, who stood stiffly, eyes huge in her white face. "Where they have Joyce, I should think. Not locked, either."

"Remember, you stay behind us!" Buffy reminded Xander and Willow. "Don't you – dare put yourselves in danger. You get Mom out." She stared at the door for a moment, then reached forward and eased it open, pulling it outwards and staring down into the dark stairwell revealed behind it. From below came a faint glow; candles, or a lantern, she thought. Enough to see by. More than she – or Spike – needed.

* * * *

She moved forwards slowly, silently, pacing with care down the narrow steps, trying not to breathe, trying not to make the stair treads creak, even though she could see they were in plain view if any one – or any thing – was in the room below them. She could feel Spike close behind her; the sound of his coat dragging on the steps was astonishingly loud in the otherwise silent building. She scanned the room carefully as she moved downwards, noting the rope still hanging limply from the overhead pipes nearby, eyes moving over discarded desks and chairs, passing without really seeing two dark blankets, shrouding two crumpled shapes on the floor. One lay almost in the corner of the room, beneath the stairs. The other lay over by a fallen chair. The room was empty.

She relaxed tense muscles as they stepped into the room. "They're not here," she said, still speaking quietly. She turned to glare at Spike. "You said they'd be here!" she continued. "Where are they? Huh? Did you let them know I was coming, is that it? Tell them to leave?!" Buffy was aware that her voice was rising as she stared at the blond vampire in front of her, anger roaring through her mind rose in red waves as she looked at him. Willow stood behind Spike, one foot still on the steps; Xander hung back, looking with distaste around the room, wincing as his eyes passed over suspiciously dark stains on the floor – blood, he assumed.

Spike calmly grounded the head of the axe on the floor and looked round again. "This is where they were, love. Can't help it if the chickens have fled the coop, now can I?" He paused and looked at her, meeting her angry gaze steadily. "And no, I didn't bloody tell them. I need your help, whether I like it or not. Think I'd p*ss you off that much? No." He nodded at a student desk, canted to one side with a broken leg. "But they've left you a note."

Buffy crossed the room in what seemed like one step, feeling as though she was moving through treacle. The air suddenly seemed thick and she felt light headed as she watched her hand reach out for the white sheet of paper, pinned to the desk. 

"Buffy? What's it say?" Willow asked quietly, watching as the Slayer's face drained of even more colour. 

The note was simple; stark black words handwritten in ink on a white sheet of paper. Buffy stared at them, the lines running together in her head, melding, making no sense. The piece of paper slipped from her trembling hand and she watched as it floated, seesawing from side to side through the air, landing lightly on the floor. 

Willow lunged forward, around Spike, and snatched up the note that Buffy had dropped, even while Buffy moved forwards as though she were sleepwalking. Spike grunted in disgust as her peered over Willow's shoulder at the piece of paper she held, leaning on the axe. They didn't speak; the only sound in the basement was the harsh sound of shoes on the floor, the soft "tink" of the axe head as Spike moved.

"We knew you'd come, Buffy, and I knew you'd bring your friends," she read, the words settling into her mind with growing horror. "I know you better than you know yourself. So we've gone. Left you a present. Hope you like it. Jenny sends her love… Slayer." It was signed R, the single, angular letter slashed deeply into the paper. She glanced away from the paper, closing her eyes briefly, then looked up to see Buffy………


	12. 

Buffy shoved at the library doors, almost running as she left and nearly knocked Xander and Willow flat. Xander automatically reached out to steady himself, grabbing at her shoulders. "Whoa there, Buff, what's the deal?" he said jokingly before he looked at her pale, set face.

"Have either of you seen Giles?" she asked, looking quickly from one to the other. "I can't find him, and, and, well. You know he called me about Jenny last night, he told me not to go over, that he'd be OK, but he hasn't shown up here. He's not answering his phone……I'm worried, guys, you know Giles, this just – isn't him," she finished, the words almost falling over one another in her haste. 

Xander gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before slowly releasing her. "I'm sure he's fine, Buffy," he said firmly, looking at Willow before looking back at the tense face of the slayer. "He probably – he probably needs to be alone right now. Time to deal, you know?" He shook his head slowly. "Poor Miss Callender." 

Buffy frowned, stared at them both for a moment then grabbed their hands and pulled them quickly back into the library she'd so recently left, backing through the doors in front of them. "Maybe you're right. But I have a feeling." She gestured behind her, and Willow gasped as she saw the ruined piles of ancient books, shredded pages littering the floor like leaves. "And this isn't like him either," Buffy added grimly. "You know how much he loves those books of his."

Willow wandered past Buffy, walking over to pick up a discarded book, flipping quietly through its ruined pages. She paused, looking over the top of the heap onto the floor behind the piled volumes. She hesitated. "Buffy? Did he – uh, did he tell you what happened? You never said when you called us last night."

"Just that, he found her. My God, I can't – can't even imagine it." Her expression changed and her eyes dropped to the floor, darkened with suppressed emotion. "He said he'd found a drawing. Of Jenny." Her voice cracked and she shrugged slightly. "That means it had to be Angel. Angelus who did it – who killed her."

"Oh." Willow said softly. "I'm sorry. I – we," she shot a glance a Xander, "know what this is like for you. But, uh, Buff? Think you need to come and see this. There's uh, blood over here. And, and. I think – one of Giles' ties."

Buffy hurried over to her, round the side of the books, dropping to kneel by the scattering of dark red-black drops. She reached out a tentative finger; the drops were tacky, almost dry now. And half in the shadows under the table lay a dimly patterned tie, coiled loosely, discarded.

* * * *

The three of the sat now, silent at the table in the library. The only sound was Xander's chair as he rocked backwards and forwards, the legs creaking slowly with each movement, and the sound as Willow nervously tapped a pencil on the polished wooden surface. The tie lay in front of them, accusing, coiled like a snake. Buffy took a deep breath and placed her hands flat on the table, looking at the other two. 

"OK," she said. "What do we know? We know that Giles found Miss – uh, Jenny in his apartment last night. We know that it had to be something to do with Angel. But why her?" she mused. "Maybe she – found something. Her computer was wrecked, right?" Willow nodded. "So maybe it was something she was, uh, working on. So he, well, he took her to Giles, and, and left her." She laughed bitterly. "Left her for Giles to find. He called me, told me what had happened, but – well, he must have come here afterwards. But why?" 

Willow looked up. They'd rummaged quickly through the discarded books earlier. "Well, the books in the pile – they're all Rituals of Summoning, Magicks." Buffy looked blank. "They're spells that can be used to summon things. I think he was trying to bring her back." Willow explained.

"Bring her – bring Jenny back – from the dead?" Buffy said, face disbelieving. 

"Yeah, it would fit, wouldn't it?" Willow questioned. "You know, great love of his life, blah blah, cruelly killed by, er, cruelly killed. He'd want to reverse it, I'm sure." She smiled dreamily, sidetracked. "It's romantic, really."

"Will! And you think he found a way to do it?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head firmly, snapping back into reality, hair swinging round her face. "No way. There's no sign of magic, I can't feel anything, and there'd be some sign. There was no spelling or magic done here last night. But something sure happened."

Xander thumped his chair back onto all four legs. "So lets check out his apartment, see if we can find anything there." He shrugged as they looked at him. "What? I can't have an idea?"

"It's a crime scene, Xander." Buffy said. "I don't think they'd let us in to snoop round." 

Xander looked hurt for a moment, then his face brightened. "Then-"

His words were cut short as the door opened and Principle Snyder strode in, looking round. He spotted them at the table and headed over to them, eyeing the piles of books and paper on the floor. Hastily the three rose to their feet as he stopped in front of them, hands folded across his chest. "So. You three again." He jerked his head at the chaos on the floor. "Anything to do with you?" 

Buffy swallowed and looked at Xander and Willow who'd decided to study the table top intently. "Uh, no. We just came in here for, for books, because, we need, uh, books, and found them. Like that. Already."

"Hmph." He glanced round the room again, leaning forward slightly so he could see into the office. "Where's Mr Giles? I have some news for him."

Buffy shook her head. "We don't know, Principle Snyder. He's not here, he hasn't been in." 

The Principle stared at her for a moment. "Well, he'll find out sooner or later. There are some sick people in this town, Miss Summers. Miss Callender's body is missing. From the morgue. If you see him first, tell him I want to see him. In my office." He paused for a second and then showed a side that seemed almost – human. "I know they – were close." He swung on his heel and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him.

Shocked, disbelieving, the three sat down at the table, sharing horrified glances. Xander stared back down at the table top. Willow was the first to voice their thoughts. "He – he wouldn't. Would he?" she said faintly. "He wouldn't have – taken her."

Buffy looked grim, face white. "This is Sunnydale, Will. Maybe she walked of her own accord."


End file.
